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Friday, December 27, 2013

Yesterday I signed a new contract for this novella. It
will be my first release with Naughty Nights Press. The good news is, this
lovely Fiona Jayde cover will remain and be the cover for the new
release!

As she led him
to the private wing of the large building that housed her home and business,
Chantille had time to question the wisdom of her actions—again. She'd been
berating herself for most of the past thirty minutes. Austin Standish was a
danger to her; she knew this on an instinctive level. Not that he would hurt
her, of course. But, he was dangerous, just the same.

She was acutely
aware of every panther-like, lissome step he took behind her. He was elegant in
manner and dress, quietly contained but always alert. The sense of being in
perilous company assailed her with new severity. She opened the twin doors to
her living suite and went inside, hearing him close the doors behind him before
joining him.

She continued
into the room, uncomfortable as she chafed against the restraints of her heavy
dress and the many layers beneath it. She'd permitted a few select men into this
suite over the past five years, but none had ever made her so acutely aware of
herself and the desire to shed her clothes and feel solid muscles and male
hardness pressed to her warm curves. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples
strained against the fabric of her chemise, rubbing against the soft material
until the pebbled points ached. Between her thighs, a slow, steady throb began
to increase in rhythm, finding a matching tempo in her heartbeat.

The soft
illumination from the fireplace touched the wood that dominated the room's
furnishings, warming the smooth, lustrous finish as shadows danced on the walls
and glimmered in the reflections of the mirror that adorned one wall of the
room. She saw nothing, only the darkness that had grown around her so steadily
throughout the past half-hour, a darkness that touched her with fears she
couldn't clearly define, much less explain.

Watching the
play of light catch in the soft gold of his hair, Chantille was struck again by
the intuitive knowledge that dominated the man's handsome features. Barely
suppressed sensuality and anticipation were so strong in the shadowed intimacy
of the suite that she felt she could reach out and touch the things that
presently put them on opposite sides of a chasm she didn't know with certainty
she wanted to close. The only thing she did know was that she wanted to be with
him more than she had any man she'd ever met.

"Tell me what
you're feeling right now, Chantille."

"Angry."

"At
me?"

"No," she
whispered, then shook her head to deny her dishonesty. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't like
being vulnerable."

* * * *
*

For the first
time, Chantille looked right at him, and Austin could read all the uncertainty
he hadn't taken the time to notice before. He answered her honestly, unwilling
to do anything less.

"I don't believe
that, and you certainly don't." The edge crept back into her tone. "I feel like
I did when I was a child, needing to be wanted. When I came to San Francisco, I
swore I'd never feel that way again."

Austin drew in a
deep draught of air and ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't have
to be afraid of anything, Chantille." He knew the words were weak, and he could
have kicked himself for them once they were spoken.

She actually
managed to smile at the statement, though there was no warmth in the
expression.

"Weak women hold
no appeal for men like you, Mr. Standish," she remarked.

"Is that what
you want? To appeal to me?"

She laughed, a
low murmur of sound that stirred the air between them.

"I want to share
my bed with you, Austin," she conceded. "What I don't want is for it to cost me
everything I've worked for."

"What are you
afraid of losing?"

"My
independence."

"Your
heart."

"Don't be
ridiculous."

"Don't lie to
me, or to yourself."

Chantille met
his eyes as if she were trying to pierce the shadows that surrounded them, to
see what lay hidden behind that confident stare. When nothing shone forth, she
closed her eyes.

Austin
let the silence engulf them again for a long minute, then he closed the
distance, touched her chin, and made her face him. His thumb brushed at the tear
welled in the corner of her eye.

"I do want you,"
she murmured, voice raw with the force of her feelings.

The loneliness
and the need for reassurance was almost a physical presence in the room with
them, and Austin was forced to wonder just how long it had been since Chantille
L'Amour had uttered those words to any man. If she ever had.

"I want you,
too, Chantille."

Austin's
whispered words were like a soft breath of air touching her face as he leaned
forward to cover her lips with a tender kiss. She moved into the caress with a
soft gasp, and her knees seemed to buckle as Austin's tongue slipped into her
mouth with possessive hunger.

Chantille broke
the intense kiss, and her head fell back as a sigh of relief and pleasure
slipped out of her. She wrapped her arms around Austin's neck, then buried her
face against his broad shoulder as she shivered into the sensations they were
igniting in each other. She smiled at the slight catch already detectable in
Austin's
breathing, then shuddered when his hands began to work the buttons of her
gown.

Suddenly, she
eased free of his embrace and took a step back. He watched, eyes narrowed for a
moment as he waited to see why she'd withdrawn. The wariness left his gaze a few
seconds later when she lit another lamp and stood next to it.

The soft golden
glow of the flickering lamplight illuminated the deft movements of her hands as
she undid the buttons and hooks that held her gown together. Austin smiled and
went to sit in a chair near the fireplace, his eyes never leaving her. The
beautiful amethyst silk crumpled into a heap at her feet, and she gracefully
stepped free of the shimmering mass. Next, the petticoats and crinolines fell
into a crisp white pile, and she smiled, her expression faintly wicked with
delight. He forced himself to remain still while she undid the hooks of her
corset, her actions slow and deliberate. Her eyes never lost their hold on his,
and she walked toward him, hips swaying seductively.

When she was
standing directly in front of him, Austin smiled up at her. His look dropped,
and his eyes locked on the thrusting peaks of her breasts, mere inches from his
lips, nipples a soft shadow against the white of her chemise. She bent slightly
and cupped his face in her hands as she leaned into a slow, exploring kiss.
Austin's arms went around her, and he lifted her off her feet and sat her
astride his thighs as he settled deeper into the armchair. The kiss went on
forever and grew more intense with each tiny stroke of tongue they exchanged.
When he thought he'd die for want of air, she drew away again and met his
gaze.

Austin's smile
became a grin when Chantille slipped the straps of her chemise off her
shoulders, then tugged on the front of the thin garment. She peeled the material
away from her skin, offering lush ivory breasts to him. He was only vaguely
surprised when she took his hands, and kissed each palm before placing his eager
fingers over the smooth swells of her flesh. She placed her own hands on his
shoulders and slid closer to him, her thighs gliding against his.

She turned as
she pushed closer, and her breath hissed from between her teeth when he licked
slowly at the ripe nipple she'd all but guided to his lips. She kissed his
temple and pressed against him until he took the hard point into his mouth and
began to suckle. He repeated the erotic play, first lavishing attention to one
nipple, then the other, encouraged by the soft moans that escaped Chantille as
she rocked gently in his lap.

"Austin…."

"Mmm?"

"Let me
up?"

He leaned back
in the chair and released her, curiosity holding his lust at bay for the
moment.

She slid back,
laughed shakily when her knees wobbled, then she walked a few steps from him.
The light trailed her, seemed to be drawn to her within the room, and he watched
with renewed fascination as she finished opening the chemise and tossed it
aside.She locked her
gaze with his again for an instant, then smiled when his eyes followed the
motion of her hands...

Thursday, December 26, 2013

First off, this is on the level, and not a scam of some kind. The Holidays often Bless us, but once in awhile, this season of generosity and kindness strikes a blow to friends that is harsh and unforgiving. My dear friend Kayden received bad news over the Holiday, and someone who means a lot to her needs help. Please read this, and if you can help in any way, even with something small, please do so:

Kayden wrote:Today I received some disheartening news. One of my good friends, Yvette, had been through a horrible Christmas morning. Her house burned down, leaving her and her family without anything over the holidays.

The Red Cross answered their call, providing them with housing for a few days, but her need is great, as herself, her husband and seven children are without housing or clothing, with the exception of the donations of good people like ourselves, that are willing to reach out and provide for a family in great need.

I ask on behalf of these wonderful people, if you could extend a helping hand: clothes for the young children, donations of food or money to get them through this trying time. Even five dollars helps immensely. I know you don’t know them, but Yvette is a wonderful person who has never done wrong to anyone, and she and her family deserve the best of holidays. I have known her for so long, and she is a reviewer at our review site, Siren Book Reviews. Her adoration for the written word made us fast friends, and I even had the chance to have lunch with her during a trip to Florida, with one of her delightful children when he was an infant. My heart goes out to them, and I hope yours does too.

Please share this post, and tell your friends! Please read the following information for donations. Tomorrow Yvette is going to go out and open a PO Box so I can provide an address to send physical donations. So please keep an eye out for that update. For anyone who sends a donation, I offer you one of my e-books of your choice.

UPDATE TODAY: Today, I have compiled all of the information for donations to Yvette Mathews-Lowe and her family. On Christmas morning, the family’s home burned down. For the next three days, they have somewhere to stay, provided by the Red Cross.

We are trying to raise funds and collect donations of clothes, toys, books, games and food for the Lowe family during these trying times. Anything you can afford to give is greatly appreciated.

Anyone who donates $5.00 or more will receive e-books of their choice from Kayden McLeod, Nikki Noffsinger, Denysé Bridger, and Lady Bee Publishing. Please contact Kayden McLeod once you have confirmed a donation at: kaydenmcleod@gmail.com

THE GATES OF INFINITY lead to
a different world where passion and deception may yet destroy two universes
about to collide. Will time continue to turn upon itself, or will the mirror of
our world open the gate and return stranded pirates and their sorcerous consorts
to familiar shores?

The story poem that begins
the novella:

MAHJRAH

ocean kissed sands wink diamonds into
the nightthe whisper of waves caresses nerves taut with panicthe
sea-foam surf is a balm to troubled spiritsand the abyss of down-soft waters
beckons as a lover’s embrace

out there, somewhere, is a shipusing
stars to guide a course to infinityeternity, too, has a path to
followand a destiny to fulfill

standing on the rooftop of a
once-thriving innI wonder at the fate that pulls me ever closer to
deathisolation has become a way of life, my existenceagainst all my
efforts to turn away from the void before me

the sea calls to me, pulls
at my soul with seductive purposeI hear voices carried on the misted
windspromises that I can’t quite definebut which haunt my heart and
inflict greater agonies

I turn away to pursue the sandman of my
dreamsdespite the knowledge that there will be no respite thereno escape
from transient demons and spectersno shelter in the arms of
Morpheus

eyes close and breaths lengthen and deepenthen he comes to
me, the devil who torments my beingwith sensuous murmurs and erotic
promiseshe shows me what my life is without, what I deny within
myself

the dream begins.....

the gentle sway of the ship is the
rhythm of passion and sexthe lap of waves the stroke of a lover’s tongue
over a swell of quivering fleshthe surge of the tide is his possession of my
eager bodythe fall befits our writhing ascent into heaven

who are
you? I ask in mystified wonderam I afraid of his answer, or anticipating
it?he laughs, a hearty, faintly mocking reverberation of humorand my
blood runs cold, then hot with rage

he is magnificent, this proud pirate
who stealswith the exquisite skill of a thieving seducer claiming his virgin
prizedark hair streams and smoky eyes gleam with anticipationand this is
what I have been born to desire?

Dariusmentor....
destroyer.... confidant.... father....you drove me to his arms, intent on
betrayaland in the end it was I who was betrayed, by myself

he
touched me, and I was whole in his hands,balanced on the edge of discovery
and despairI went willingly to his bed and his heartasked desperately to
remain prisoner to his destiny

he kissed me, a soft caress that vowed so
much more would followand I stood before him, naked in all ways,
desiringthings I could not yet name, but knew within meand he held me
with his gaze, searching for deceit, finding only trust

his hands
stripped me of everything, while giving everything backhis mouth, soft, wet,
suckling at my breast, gave me the taste of euphoriahot, rigid velvet
sheathed within my clutching body tortured me with ecstasyand his possession
defined my being and made me what I am

Verannasorceress....
companion.... seer.... hope....I am Mahjrah’s mate, and his life is mine, as
mine is histhough we both have often wished it were not so

and I
have betrayed my beloved captain.....

Dorencomrade.... strength....
protector.... deception....what we did was wrong, yet it, too, was
predestined in so many waysMahjrah made you my champion, and that story is
as old as time itself

and now I stand before him again, waiting and
afraidtrembling with need and terror, and reawakened loveyes, I love
you, Mahjrah, always and only youand somewhere inside you, I feel the poison
of my treachery

you are uncertain, even as you stand solid and ever
strongthe serpent of doubt and suspicion has bitten deepthat venom
mingles with the heart’s blood of our bondand I do not know which will
emerge as the stronger power

still, you have taken me again, in passion
and welcomemy body has been reclaimed, even as my spirit hides in
shametry as I may, I cannot forget the rapture that you gave meand all I
am able to offer you now is the frightened shell I have become

you
deserve far better, you have asked for little,given everything without
question or priceuntil now, when a challenge far greater than others removes
our choicesnow you charge me with the task of finding our home

I
have always thought my home was in your eyesbut the romanticism of that
whimsy is a joke in the face of this harsh realityyou demand a gateway to
another lifeand I must find a way to obey this
command

Thaer.....our world....close enough to touch, to
feel....the parallel of this prison in which we have been
trapped.....

Part Two: a short
scene...

The moon shone silver across
the restless waters of the cove, casting spectral shadows of ice into the
endless ripples of the current. Sitting alone on the shore, Veranna stared at
the magical night-scape and felt despair engulf her anew. They’d been stranded
for eternal weeks, and no member of the crew looked upon her with warmth or
friendliness now. Except the Captain, Mahjrah’s eyes held unflinching kindness
and undeniable love. Her salvation, she knew.

She shifted her line of vision
and shivered when her eyes came into contact with the repaired ship anchored in
the small harbor. The mast stretched upward and the rigging stood starkly
outlined, a wraith-like silhouette against the glowing orb sweeping steadily
across the sky. The Scarab waited with patience her crew did not possess. Waited
for her to summon knowledge and power she no longer controlled.

“Mahjrah’s looking for
you.”

Startled, Veranna turned, and
sighed inwardly at the cool masque of Doren’s indifference.

“I’m afraid, Doren,” she
murmured without conscious thought.

Anger sparked in his eyes and
she flinched. His expression softened with regret an instant later and he sat
next to her.

“You’ve seen my fear, Veri,”
he muttered, voice tinged with bitterness. “Even if you don’t remember it just
now.”

He added the last with
self-deprecating irony, and she felt a tremor begin deep within her. It burned
through her with shocking speed, leaving her quivering against all she didn’t
know.

“What is he searching for that
I am supposed to know about?”

“Ask him,” Doren told her
candidly. “Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to you about now?”

Suspicion flared in her dark
eyes and he laughed at her.

“He doesn’t tell me what he
wants from you, Veranna,” he said with a hint of derision.

“I suppose he doesn’t really
have to, does he?” she retorted and rose. “He wants the same thing the rest of
you want, the impossible.” She strode away, angered beyond reason by the
exchange. She was still scowling when she found Mahjrah further down the
shore.

The tall captain watched her
approach, his expression guarded, but curious.

“You look as if you wish to
kill someone, lady,” he remarked.

“Perhaps I do,” she replied,
looking past his shoulder to the men who were standing a short distance from
them. “What is it you want, Mahjrah?” she asked, suddenly weary.

“Darius is near, Veranna,” he
said quietly, very serious now. “We need an escape from this place before
Isiress pinpoints our location.”

“Isiress can control her
magic, Ehtionne,” Veranna reminded him, uncomfortably aware of the many ears
listening to their words. “I have no such strength. You ask what I cannot
give.”

Dark eyes glittered like onyx
in the flickering flames of the torches that had been lit. Veranna held her
breath, waiting for anger, hoping desperately for understanding.

Slowly, Mahjrah nodded. He
went to take her by the elbow, then led her toward the small circle of huts
they’d erected for the duration of their stay on the isle. When they reached the
relative privacy of their quarters, he sat her down and knelt before
her.

“I know you can defeat this
sorceress who guards The Pharaoh’s Ghost,” he began firmly, but gently. “But you
must know it, too, my lady,” he continued, tone pitched to a sensual purr of
sound. “You possess great power and knowledge, Veranna, and we need both while
we are so vulnerable.”

“I’ve been trying, Mahjrah,”
she assured him. “I want to help you!”

He considered her words with a
seriousness that inexorably woke fear as she waited for him to voice whatever
dark thoughts were creating such fierceness in his handsome features. When his
low, gravel-textured voice finally stirred the air between them, she
trembled.

“We need to take a great risk,
love,” he began ominously. “One that may be our last hope of recovering your
lost memory.” Dark eyes clashed as he forced her to meet his stare. “Do you
trust our bonds, Veranna?”

It seemed a totally
inappropriate question, and that, too, frightened her for eternal seconds as he
awaited her reply. Unable to form the words, she nodded mutely, the response an
intuitive answer born in her heart. He accepted her nod after only a second’s
hesitation, then rose and left. A moment later, she heard his strong voice
shouting for Doren. Hugging herself tightly, she listened as Mahjrah ordered his
mate to bring Veranna’s trunk from the ship. When he re-entered the hut again
short minutes later, Mahjrah carried a silver bowl etched with magical rhunes
and filled with ashes. Behind him, Gianni came in with hands full of the
mystical candles. He put them next to the bowl that Mahjrah had placed in the
center of the hut’s rough floor, then he left them without a word.

“Tell me what you remember,”
Mahjrah ordered.

“Place the candles that
contain sky, earth and fire in a circle around us,” she replied without thought.
His smile was an encouragement she responded to, and she continued quickly, lest
she lose the precious strand of knowledge. “Strength, divination, and earth
power.”

Mahjrah did as she requested,
and by the time he was done, Doren and Marcello had retrieved the heavy case
that had a permanent place beneath the captain’s bunk. Doren looked Veranna, his
doubt clear, but he held his silence. Moments later, the captain and his lover
were alone again.

“Choose your magic, lady,” he
said and indicated the case that stood inside the doorway. “I fear that we have
little time.”

Trusting to instinct once
again, Veranna rose and went to the case. She opened it, and inhaled the
enticing aroma of spices and herbs, and the tingle of mystical power that
emanated from things hidden in the lowest levels of the case. As before, music
was an undercurrent that guided her, attuned her to the very earth on which she
stood. She lifted the upper tray of items and looked into the more powerful
objects held in the chest. Mahjrah’s hand reached past hers, and he retrieved a
key from the corner, a key that was gold on one side, and silver on the other,
perfectly melded together, each side carrying the symbols that were on the coins
contained in the chest they guarded. The key dangled from a cord made of strands
of hair, hers and his, entwined with ribbons of blue and ebony, the colors of
their eyes; he slipped it over her head and smiled when it came to rest just
above the shadow between her breasts.

“Aphrodeesia
enchantrae,” he whispered roughly, his hands gliding over her back, before
he moved to stand behind her and cup full breasts as he began to nuzzle her
neck.

Shaking with another layer of
emotion now, Veranna reached for the requested amalgam. She sucked in a rasp of
air when the pressure of his hands increased and his sure fingers teased already
straining nipples to greater sensitivity. Guided by instinct, she let the powder
fall into the silver bowl, mingling with the ashes that would stir to life and
reawaken her memories. The music that symbolized her power began to rise and
find voice inside her.

Friday, December 20, 2013

A few years ago I released a book called Royal Consort. It was a fun title, and combined my love of fantasy with my love of romance with an erotic touch. Somehow, I never found the right publisher for the book, and it just sort of died. Back in January, I requested return of the book, and it has since undergone a major revision to become book one in a trilogy. THE TRIAD OF POWER: First Quest released officially on December 22nd, and this is the official cover reveal and sneak peek at my next release. I'm really enjoying this story now that's it's been revised and edited, and leading to two more adventures. I hope you enjoy a peek at it, too!

Available Now at:Publisher | ARe Romance Books | Amazon
As contented peace steeped the air around them, and they were able to breathe in near silence again, Sherindal contemplated her surroundings. On her knees, with the Prince of Ember still sheathed within her, she had never known a moment of more perfect serenity and completion. Her senses hummed with awareness of everything: the texture of the bed linen, cool silk, caressing her heated skin, the subtle patterns swirling amid the tapestries that hung on the stone walls of the bedchamber, even the heavy scent of candle wax addeding another layer of appreciation to her happiness.

She leaned to one side, looped her arm around his neck and drew his mouth to hers in a kiss that was filled with gentle passion.

“I do love you, Rienn.”

Rienn nodded. His hands on her waist moved her. She shivered as he slipped free of her. “I’ll order a bath and some food,” he told her.

She grabbed his wrist and shook her head. “Later. I want you to hold me.”

Rienn stretched out and pulled her down to him, spooning her body to his when he pressed her back to his chest.

They’d only slept for minutes when the huge doors of the Prince’s chambers were flung open and the spacious room was invaded by numerous men, all bearing swords.

“Rienn.”

The word was a warning, and Sherindal slithered from the bed when he released her. She scooped up her weapon as she rolled, oblivious to her nakedness. She whirled to face the first rush of the attack. Somewhere through the early morning hours since they’d made love, Rienn had thought to retrieve his breeches, she noted from the corner of her eye. He had managed to gain his weapon, and they fought, back to back.

Sherindal hissed in fury and pain when the second of the men who engaged her slipped past her defense and inflicted a wound near her waist. It was a surface injury and she quickly rewarded him by slicing off his sword hand. Howling in agony, he toppled back, then fled as he recovered his footing several feet away from her.

Rienn had killed two men and was about to run through the third when Sherindal’s voice filled the room, and the blade she wielded, Huntor, rose with her song. The attackers froze momentarily, those two who remained, and she smiled when the weapon cut them down, then drifted back to her outstretched hand, coming to rest in her grasp with near peaceful ease.

“Your blood-thirsty weapon has been sated nicely this morning,” Rienn observed with a tense glance at the gleaming blade.

“Who are they?” she asked, her tone cold as she met his gaze.

“Why would you assume I know?” he retorted instantly. “This is hardly what I would consider an invigorating start to the day!”

“Really?” One eyebrow rose in emphasis of her sardonic tone. “It is one of the more interesting diversions you might have provided, Rienn.” Her laughter was faintly mocking, and not a little bit ironic.

Rienn’s handsome features suffused with rage and he reached for her, gripped her bare arm with fingers that dug into her flesh like steel bands.

“You can be an evil bitch,” he whispered darkly.

Sherindal smiled, and this time it was genuine. She nodded, kissed his chin, the closest she could get to his mouth from her disadvantaged height, then she gasped as a fiery lance reminded her of the slash near her left hip.

“Enough, Rienn,” she said.

He released her, scooped her into his arms, and placed her in the center of the feathered mattress of his bed. He looked closely at the injury, yanked the bell pull, and then went to the heavy wardrobe at the far end of the chamber.

His guards were rushing along the corridor when he returned to the bed and helped Sherindal into one of his linen shirts. She bit her bottom lip against another stab of pain and laughed in macabre amusement when she spotted the duo who entered the room.

“They look rested enough, my love,” she muttered.

Rienn glared at her, then turned an even fiercer visage to the men who should have prevented the assault in his private rooms.

“Get them out of here, then report to Radisan.”

“Radisan will no doubt beat the life out of them, Rienn,” she remarked. “Your brother is overzealous when it comes to punishment. He enjoys watching other people writhe, especially when he is the orchestrator of their anguish.”

“Would you rather I reward them for their lapse?” he snapped. “We could have been killed, Sher!”

“Highly unlikely. Get me my own clothes,” she requested. “I want to dress.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he warned from his position near the door. As the two guards dragged the last of the fallen men into the hall, he slammed the door into place and speared his lover with a look that frequently froze men in their tracks. Sherindal rose from the bed to retrieve her belongings.

“Why?”

She sighed and began to apply salve from the small medicine kit she carried. When the wound was smeared with the peach-colored cream, she wrapped clean linen around her hips, then continued to dress. Dark brown trousers, forest green tunic, black boots and vest, and lastly the sword, in a sheath that she wore at her back, the glittering hilt visible between her shoulders when she faced the Prince again.

“Rienn,” she said gently. “I would not leave you if it wasn’t necessary. This is something I must do. I have no choice!”

Rienn’s unusual eyes flared with anger, and he strode toward her, stopping when her head moved so that she might hold his look. He towered over her, and often used that height to keep her off balance when they were this close. She had told him that he was a drug she was addicted to, and the sensuality of their passion had grown with their aging. She would have made a perfect queen, but his father had long ago threatened Rienn with banishment if he took Sherindal as his wife. The old man had said on many occasions he would hold the throne forever from Rienn if he dared to believe a witch would be an appropriate queen for Ember. Sherindal seemed more than happy to be his consort, with none of the advantages that position could have offered.

Ironically, by his own decree, Rienn’s father had also insured he’d never have the grandchildren he desired, for Rienn would not betray his love for Sherindal by accepting another woman in his bed. The King believed that to be one more proof of Sher’s sorcery, her hold on the oldest son of Ember’s Royal House. Love was an emotion the old man mocked and disdained, and one he had never understood. Rienn’s mother had died many years earlier, and they had been closer than many sons and mothers. They had been friends and confidants. The Queen had approved completely of Rienn’s choice of mate.

So I wrote this little book—Dying to Love Her. It’s kind of naughty
(shh, don’t tell my mom). It’s a paranormal erotic m/f/m ménage published by
Ellora’s Cave. I really tried to be a good girl and pick just one hunky
skyscraper of vampire flesh to write about but it was impossible so I gave my
curvy heroine two.

Here’s
the blurb:

When Melanie Woodson joins Empriva
Fitness she expects to lose weight, not gain two sexy vampire personal
trainers. With an exercise regimen that includes passionate horizontal
workouts, fat-burning orgasms and lusty words of encouragement, she’s in
serious danger of forgetting their relationship is based on a business
agreement and not mutual attraction.

Alec Kosta and Rook Abernathy, best
friends and owners of Empriva, have waited over a century for the right
lifemate to come along. Now that they’ve found Melanie, with her endless curves
and quick wit, they’re ready to give up countless lifetimes to spend just one
with her.

But time isn’t on their side—they’ve
tasted her blood and now mere days are all they have to convince her their love
is real or risk losing their chance to be with her forever.

A
Romantica® paranormal ménage erotic
romance from Ellora’s Cave

Uh-huh—you read it right. My vamps suck
and fuck the pounds away. No more dieting or unpleasant exercising. No more
stuffing your butt and thighs into unforgiving work-out clothes. You’re ready
to sign up for a lifetime membership…right?

When I’m not thinking of vampire personal
trainer manwiches there are a few other pairs of men out there that set my
imagination on fire. Thought I’d include a sampling of my fantasy ménages so
you can get to know me a little better.

Yes—this is dangerously close to TMI but
I like to share.

Post-Apocalyptic
Manwich: Daryl Dixon and Shane Walsh from The Walking Dead. This is my favorite
show on TV and I was always on bad boy Shane’s team. Between him and
rednecktastic Daryl I’d find a way to cope with the end of the world.

Mutant
Manwich: Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy
from X-Men First Class playing the
younger versions of Magneto and Professor X. Oh what the hell—the more the
merrier—let’s throw in Hugh Jackman (Wolverine) into the mix. Psst…by the way
my vamps are more like mutants and less like soulless creatures of the night.

Straight-For-Me
Manwich: Matthew Bomer and Matthew Bomer. That’s
right…one of him would be great but two would be better. I’d clone him. He’s
puuuuurfect!

Bromance
Manwich: Chris Pine and Tom Hardy from This Means War. I’ve seen this movie
more times than I can count. Love it! Hardy’s pucker-perfect lips make me think
of my hero Rook and Pine’s piercing eyes are just like Alec’s.

I could go on and on but then I’d
probably just embarrass myself when I revealed my nerd manwich so I’ll stop
right now. If you have the time, visit my website, www.danalorraine.com,
to watch my book trailer for Dying to Love Her!

Happy Reading!

About
the Author:

Dana Lorraine never dreamed she’d grow
up to be a writer. A voracious reader of romance, one day she decided to write
one of her own. And now she never wants to stop. Paranormal, sci-fi or
contemporary, ménage or one-on-one, don’t ask her to limit herself to just one
type because she loves them all.

She makes killer meatballs, loves to
reread her favorite romances and likes any drink served with an umbrella. A
bookseller by day and mother of two wonderful daughters all the time, you’ll
find Dana sweet-talking her husband into doing laundry and bringing home
take-out so she has more time to write.

You can only pick 3 words to
describe your main characters, what would they be?

Loyal. Passionate. Fun.

Bio:

I'm just your everyday dirty-book-writing
mama. I live in Texas with my Viking throwback husband and a mischievous
preschooler. You can find me online at www.lolitalopez.com
and on Facebook (goo.gl/UsNFM). My newsletter (eepurl.com/mlTcX)
provides updates on new releases, free reads and other cool stuff.

I also write scorching hot romances with
a dash of suspense and plenty of sexy tattooed bad boys as Roxie Rivera(www.roxierivera.com

)
including the bestselling Her Russian Protector series and the Fighting
Connollys trilogy.

Blurb:

Grabbed,
Book ThreeTo escape her father's debt to a loan
shark, Dizzy seeks refuge in the upcoming Grab. She’d rather belong to one of
those terrifying sky warriors from the battleship Valiant than to the sleazy criminal who wants her as his plaything.

The years of constant war haven’t been
kind to highly decorated sniper Venom. Only the promise of earning a wife kept
him going through deadly battles. Catching and collaring Dizzy fills him with incredible
hope. Finally he has a woman of his own, a mate to love—and bind and adorn with
his ropes.After a brazen Splinter attack, the
Shadow Force uncovers secrets about Dizzy’s late mother that entangle her in a
web of deceit. To save Venom, her father and an operative named Terror, Dizzy
digs deep and risks it all.Venom refuses to stand idly by while
Dizzy’s haunted past threatens the future they’re trying to build. He finally
has a reason for living—and he’s not giving her up.

You can only pick 3 words to
describe your main characters, what would they be?

Ruthless – In the previous
three stories in the Barbarian Claims series (Warlord’s Bounty, Warlord
Unarmed, Warlord Reunited), Tolui was the baddie. The other Warlords viewed him
as being ruthless and self-serving. They interpreted his aggressive actions as
being about him, about his need for power. In Warlord’s Mercy, reading buddies
discover that yes, Tolui is ruthless but he has a very good reason to be
ruthless.Clone – Tolui is a clone. In
the Chamele system, cloning is a crime, and clones are outlaws. He’s been told
that clones can’t have mates, can’t have natural children, can’t be loved. He
has lived his life assuming none of this is possible. When he meets Lea, he
discovers that everything he knows about clones is a lie.Survivor—Lea, the heroine of
Warlord’s Mercy, is a survivor. She changes with her circumstances, finding her
place on even the most hostile planet with the fiercest Warlord.

Bio:

Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons
aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good, and magic happens every single day.
Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you”, they will do anything for
the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the
same women forever.

Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man
forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of
research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and
finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Tolui, a clone of a powerful Warlord, is
a male without a homeland or a future. Doomed to never mate, he ruthlessly
wages war, seeking to give his clone brothers a planet system
to call their own, a place where they can live without persecution.

When Tolui crashes on a deserted planet
and meets a small human female, he discovers everything he knows
about clones is a lie. Lea, his destined mate, frees the passion he’s
suppressed over his lifetime. He wants her. He needs her. He’ll do
anything to bond with her.

But he won’t share her. Tolui’s greatest
battle will be the fight for Lea’s heart. To win her love, he’ll face hundreds
of his clone brothers, men who look exactly like him.

You can only pick 3 words to
describe your main characters, what would they be?

Rasha – warrior, strong,
loyal

Jess – strong, fragile,
determined

Rasha is a warrior and all of
what the term encompasses. He is strong in mind and body. He is a loyal friend
and he is loyal to the emotions that he has toward Jess.

Jess has been sold to a
brothel and escaped. She is strong willed and has a strong sense of self to
have survived what she has gone through. She’s fragile because she still has
nightmares and flashbacks of what she’s gone through. She’s determined because
she has taken steps to move on with her life and start again.

Bio:

A. M. Griffin is a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three,
dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She's
a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys
reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course
fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all
possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and
intelligent life forms in distant galaxies.

Jess hates aliens.
After the invasion that destroyed Earth, the extraterrestrial bastards sold her
to a brothel as a sex slave. She may have escaped but the old memories and
fears still linger in the dark corners of her mind. Supposedly Sonis is just
the place for her—somewhere safe, where she can heal and start fresh. She’s
almost hopeful…until she meets Rasha, her new boss.

Rasha, captain of
the Sonis Royal Guard, is a warrior through and through. He’s huge, sinfully
sexy and could have any woman on Sonis—but the woman he wants is Jess. He’s
very much an alien and Jess knows she should hate him or at least be wary, but
whenever he’s around, she loses control. She tells herself it’s only
sex—amazing, mind-blowing sex like nothing else she’s ever experienced—but
there’s something about Rasha that shakes her soul. The feel of his skin
against hers, the look in his eyes as he touches her—they make her want to
believe it’s possible to find love and begin again.

You can only pick 3 words to
describe your main characters, what would they be?

Dak – powerful, besieged,
alone

Omra – vulnberable, strong,
catalyst

Corren – ambitious, driven,
bitter

Bio:

Cara Bristol has
written everything from mainstream long and short fiction to nonfiction
magazine and newspaper articles. She sold her first erotic romance in 2009. Now
multi-published, she has ten erotic romances and two anthologies to her name.
The author of the popular Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series, Cara
writes spanking fiction most often, but her published works also include
contemporary and paranormal erotic romances. When she’s not writing, she enjoys
reading, traveling, and watching reality TV shows. Breeder
is her first science fiction novel and the start of a series. She lives in the
Midwest United States with her husband

To secure his
legacy, Commander Dak, a ruling Alpha of planet Parseon, purchases Omra, a
breeder slave. He intends to impregnate her, produce a son, and hand her off to
his anointed beta partner. As Dak and Omra discover a sexual bliss banned by
law, he begins to question the traditions and ways of his people, causing him
to jeopardize his command and endanger the life of the woman he has come to
love.